


The time for gentleness is over

by Servena



Series: Being Human Apocalypse AU [1]
Category: Becoming Human (Web Series), Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, Death, F/M, Inspired by The Passage, Kissing, Making Out, Reunions, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: She wanted to kiss him and touch him and hold on to him and never let go again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sommerchallenge 2016.

She took his hand and pulled him after her until they reached the backside of the storage building, where they would be out of sight. There she shoved him against the wall and pressed her lips against his in an urgent, desperate kiss. His face was cold, as were his hands, but she sunk her fingers into his dark curly hair and pulled him closer.

When she slid her hands under his leather jacket to slide it off, he stopped her. “Are you sure?” he asked, brows furrowed.

They looked at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and knew he could hear it, too. She wanted to shout ‘Yes, I’m sure, dammit’ but she didn’t know if she could. Something in her throat hurt and she tried to swallow down the feeling before it could get out.

He looked tired, she thought. She hadn’t thought vampires could look tired. But there he was, looking exhausted, like he could sleep a hundred years. His clothes were dusty and there was a deep scratch at the side of his neck that hadn’t quite healed yet.

She could only imagine what she looked like herself. She didn’t look at mirrors often these days. Then she remembered that he couldn’t even see himself in mirrors. She didn’t know if that was better or worse.

Someone was crying, the wind was carrying the sound over from the gates of the camp. 10 men and women had returned today. Over 50 had gone out a week ago. The bodies would have to be burnt tonight, before they could change into something no one wanted to think about.

(Really it was everything they could think about.)

“We don’t have to do this”, he said softly.

But she wanted to. She wanted to kiss him and touch him and hold on to him and never let go again. There had been a time when she had imagined her first time to be gentle, with a nice boy, at home in her own bed. But the time for gentleness was over and she didn’t need a nice boy anymore.

There would be nothing gentle about this. They would grab each other tight and scratch nails over skin and she would bite his neck to keep from crying out. (There had to be some irony in that).

In the end nothing of the sorts happened. They just clung to each other, bodies pressed together, fingers digging into skin. Making sure the other was still here, still alive. (There was some irony in that, too.)

He stroked over her tousled hair and she pushed her face against his chest and the pain in her throat dissolved into loud sobs she tried to stifle in his leather jacket.


End file.
